


day one

by NalgeneWhore



Series: Femslash February 2021 [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Femslash February, Lesbian!Elorcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalgeneWhore/pseuds/NalgeneWhore
Summary: hello ! this is day one of Femslash February (ive started a day early to work around the schedule of another on-going fic). during this month, i will be posting one fem!elorcan one shot per day ! im super excited for this and i hope u all enjoy <3 if u go to my tumblr (@nalgenewhore) you will be able to find face claims and other femslash february related things <3
Relationships: Fem!Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre
Series: Femslash February 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136669
Kudos: 3





	day one

**Author's Note:**

> hello ! this is day one of Femslash February (ive started a day early to work around the schedule of another on-going fic). during this month, i will be posting one fem!elorcan one shot per day ! im super excited for this and i hope u all enjoy <3 if u go to my tumblr (@nalgenewhore) you will be able to find face claims and other femslash february related things <3

She remembers this body well. It is one the gods have given her often enough. 

It’s her favourite form.

Lorcan studies herself in the mirror, her dark eyes perceptive and curious. She stands in her underwear and a tank top, miles and miles of smooth, unblemished brown skin for her to see. When she touches her sharp jaw, images of round lips, plump and sweet like fresh fruit, flash through her mind, marking themselves down Lorcan’s jaw. 

When she touches the gentle curve of her hips, she sees legs - pale, freckled legs - wrapped around them. And when Lorcan presses her hand above her heart, she sees a heart-shaped face. The woman she sees is… beautiful. Exquisitely so. Her cheekbones are high and regal, framing her ethereal, slender eyes. Those same dark freckles are dotted across the low bridge of her short nose and when she smiles… 

Lorcan can’t breathe. 

_ I knew you. I loved you. I was loved by you.  _

The tall woman shakes her head free from those foolish thoughts. Lorcan glances out the window and sees the pouring rain. She is not upset or really bothered by the poor weather. After all, it isn’t like she can do anything to change it. Lorcan opens her closet and peruses her choices. She changes her thin tank top for a bra and tugs on a pair of worn-in straight legged jeans. Lorcan leans down to cuff them, and stands back up, reaching for a long sleeved shirt. 

Over her shirt, Lorcan layers a black crewneck. She doesn’t see the heart embroidered on the cuff until after and stares at it for a moment. The heart… she knows those stitches, neat and even without a machine. Lorcan remembers a time when all of her clothes had a little heart stitched on them. 

Her heart quickens and with every beat, it seems to say,  _ I will find you again, we will find each other again, I will find you again, we will find each other again.  _

But  _ who _ ? Who is she to find again? She is ancient. She has walked this earth many times before, alone sometimes, but never for long. Lorcan has known too many people. How can she remember them all? It is a futile and meaningless mission. 

She wasn’t always alone, but she is alone now. Nothing else matters. 

Lorcan grabs her heavy, fleece-lined flannel coat and puts it on. She checks that her phone and keys are in her pockets before she leaves her bedroom, not caring to make her bed nor close the door. 

By the door, Lorcan sits on the shoe bench to put on her broken-in combat boots and laces them tightly. She pulls the cuffed hem of her jeans over her boots and stands, sighing gently. Just as her hand touches the doorknob, a voice - one that sounds suspiciously like her mother - rings through her head.  _ Foolish girl. You better be wearing a hat before you go and catch your death.  _

She rolls her eyes at the voice and grabs the grey toque hanging on the coat rack. Lorcan puts it on and fixes it to her liking. Then, she leaves, locking her apartment door. 

Lorcan walks to the end of the hallway, where the staircase is. She shoves her hands in her pockets and sort of jogs down the stairs. As she descends, Lorcan doesn’t run into any of her neighbours, thank the lords above and below. She is not… sociable and they are all so… frivolous. Lorcan supposes, as she crosses the lobby and pushes the door open, she has never liked mortals. 

They’ve never been gentle enough with each other. They’re always in those horrible wars. It’s like they forget how fragile they really are. They’re careless and sloppy and Lorcan has loathed them for it. 

Her breaths puff and curl in the cold weather, though it isn’t cold enough to turn the steady fall of rain into snow. Lorcan stands under her building’s awning for a weightless moment, watching passersby hurry on. 

She puts one foot in front of the other, not really knowing where she’s going. Her stomach aches and though she knows there is a café on the next block, Lorcan doesn’t feel like stopping there today. 

Wandering, Lorcan decides, is what she was put on this earth for. Sometimes, if she’s in exactly the right spot, Lorcan can feel her past lives line up for a second and for that fleeting second, she sees the world that she used to be in. It makes her smile gently when it happens. 

The further she walks, the more she feels pulled towards something. For the life of her, Lorcan cannot figure out why. She follows that feeling to a small diner she’s never seen before. 

Above the doorway flickers a lit-up sign -  _ ANNIETH’S EATS.  _ She looks down at the open sign, which reads  _ CLOSED _ , and reads through the hours. The place is two minutes from opening, so Lorcan tentatively twists the handle and opens the door. 

As she opens the door, a soft bell rings and Lorcan reaches upwards to silence it. There is a woman behind the counter, her back turned to Lorcan. She is short and Lorcan doubts that the woman’s head would even reach her chest. “Hello?” 

Her low, grating voice startles the woman, who quickly turns. She holds her hand to her chest and pulls out an earbud, “Anneith above, I didn’t no-notice…” she trails off, something slowly filling her eyes. 

Lorcan lets the door swing shut, but doesn’t step forward another step. She looks at the woman, who is silent now, and… oh, she knows those freckles, she’s pushed that unruly hair behind those ears, she’s… she has been loved by this woman. She has loved this woman. 

“Lorcan?” 

Her name, her name has never sounded so… delicate, so sweet. Like her, it is brutal and war-like. It has never been treated with such softness. “Yes,” Lorcan answers, her voice hardly more than a rasp. 

Tears fill the woman’s narrow, monolid eyes. She swallows and brushes them away, laughing a bit. “You don’t remember me, do you?” 

Lorcan is silent. She’s looking. She’s remembering. “I remember you,” she whispers. “I remember…” her eyes stray to the woman’s lips, which are painted a dark red and look like a piece of fruit, “kissing you.” The thought makes her recoil - in shock, in distress. This- this woman is something precious and special.  _ Why can’t you remember.  _ “Why do I remember that?” 

“Because you know me,” the woman murmurs. “Because you knew me. You loved me and… you were loved by me.” 

Quickly, too quickly, memories and memories and  _ memories _ start flashing in her mind. There are too many and Lorcan shuts her eyes, pressing her back into the door. Her brain is too loud, there’s too much, there’s too much, she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, she can’t–

_ Elide _ . 

Lorcan snaps her eyes open and breathes, “Elide.” She steps forward, “Are- Elide?” 

She nods, “Yes.” Elide laughs and they meet in the middle, Lorcan sweeping Elide off her feet. “I’ve missed you so much, my love.” 

Lorcan blinks back tears and inhales her love’s perfume of elderberry and cinnamon - unchanged after centuries, millenia. 

And, like they always did, like they always have, like they always will, Elide and Lorcan found each other again. 


End file.
